


Like A Breeze in the Night (Part 1)

by LymneirianApparition



Series: Like a Breeze in the Night [1]
Category: Pathfinder (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: F/F, Girls Kissing, Kissing, Masturbation, Original Character(s), Public Sex, Tribadism, Vaginal Fingering, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-27 23:08:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10818684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LymneirianApparition/pseuds/LymneirianApparition
Summary: A botched pickpocket attempt leaves Simoun face-to-face with a member of her own kind: a fellow Sylph. This tense chance meeting between the two female air elementals leads to a frantic chase... and more.





	Like A Breeze in the Night (Part 1)

Like A Breeze In The Night

In the Suburst Market, the bazaar at the heart of Wati, female customers without the company of husbands, brothers, or children were a rare sight to see. Still, no one got in the way of the trio of tall, haughty women who strode the narrow paths between its stalls. Two dark of skin and one fair, all were armed and clearly wielded magic, and although the leader foolishly wore the encasing steel armor of the outlanders, she gave no sign that it bothered her in the desert's stifling heat.

Here and there, people knew them. The three had been in and out of Wati for weeks now and saved the lives of some of its residents on more than one occasion. But still, they were adventurers and so most gave them a wide berth. For could you really thank an adventurer for saving you from trouble that she herself had brought?

Simoun, the pale Sylph Rogue who accompanied Channa-Ti the Druid and Seelah the Paladin, understood this better than her two lovers. Channa-Ti's mind was wrapped in the mysteries of the elements and thought only of people when there was profit to be had in conjuring them water. Seelah saw the world through a lens of relentless idealism and empathized with people's most basic and persistent fears, yet often failed to understand them. Simoun had been adopted by a desert warrior tribe – people who had stayed alive for centuries precisely because of their distrust of outsiders. But she had left that life and become the outsider. Now wherever she went people were afraid of her. Simoun did not blame them, for she would be afraid of her too.

That's why she knew what was going to happen from twenty paces away. The lone urchin shuffled toward them, hugging the side of the path but heading straight on just the same. The ragged shawl covering the youth's head and torso combined with the sickly, shuffling gait indicated a leper or some other type of sickness. Not someone contagious, but at death's door regardless. 

An affectation, and a good one, but the shawl was not long enough. The youth's leg wraps of leather-reinforced fabric were functional and well cared-for. The stirrups that covered their feet leaving heels and toes exposed lent to the air of poverty but were also ideal for an acrobat who ran the rooftops like a breeze in the night. 

Simoun didn't have to let it happen but she did anyway. She made sure it was her path that the groping, dying character on display stumbled into. She simply had to see the look on their face when they learned they had tried to trick a trickster.

The shuffling thing lurched into her shoulder. She didn't feel the hand seize her coin purse, nor had she thought that she would. But her own hand struck like an asp and seized the pickpocket by the wrist with perfect accuracy nonetheless. The wrist was small, but encircled by a supple leather vambrace and she could feel the lean strength of the arm as it squirmed in her grasp, but Simoun was stronger. The interloper looked up for the first time, shocked to have been found out, and Simoun met the smaller person's face with a menacing glare that she knew would have made Seelah proud. But her wicked little game went awry when the other thief's frightened eyes met her steely glare, for the woman was another Sylph exactly like herself.

The girl's skin was even whiter than her own; its blue undertone more subtle. Her lank, downy-soft white hair was cut to a length more practical than Simoun's long, luxuriant waves, and her eyes were like pale blue crystal. She could have been mistaken for an albino human, but the curling blue glyphs snaking across her skin betrayed her. Too natural, too real to ever be mistaken for tattoos, the azure arcs curled down her hollow cheeks like monotone rainbows and told the tale of her elemental ancestry to any who knew how to listen. But Simoun did not need to listen, for the story those marks screamed was her own and she could feel it leaping from the girl's skin down into her own heart.

The electricity sizzling in Simoun's veins responded to the touch of her own kind and it literally arced between them. The girl had seen her in the crowd: a beautiful, wealthy woman and therefore vulnerable. But she had not really looked. Or perhaps she did not know others of her own kind existed. Whatever the reason, being caught by Simoun revealed she was not alone in the world and left her speechless.

Simoun wanted this girl. She didn't know her but she wanted her just the same. She loved Channa-Ti and Seelah, but having discovered her own blood standing before her she wanted to absorb it, entwine around the girl until they became a literal whirlwind. She knew that the girl wanted it too.

But a thief was a thief and first Simoun had to teach her a lesson; make sure she knew that Simoun was no one to be trifled with. On her right hip she bore a gem-encrusted kukri: the loot from their latest tomb raid. It had served as bait in a mechanical trap that she had disabled and now it would serve to intimidate this young rogue quite nicely. But her airy fingers closed around nothing. 

Glancing in shock from her waist to the other Sylph, she was shocked and infuriated to find her prized blade in the girl's free hand. The girl took advantage of the moment to slip free and bolted in the direction from which she had come. Simoun had stopped her from taking the dozens of gold in her pouch and instead given her a weapon worth hundreds! She had been played and left grasping at air. The only whirlwind she had found was one of indignity, insult, and frustrated lust.

Channa-Ti and Seelah had seen the whole thing, of course. It had not been that long since they had all three had the talk about how their love overcame any jealousy. Thus, Simoun did not hesitate for an instant when Seelah laid her heavy gauntlet upon the Sylph's shoulder and caressed her ear with the strong, sultry words, “Go after her.”

The chase was on.

The fleet-footed thief flowed among the evening crowds and through the maze of vendor stalls like water rushing downhill. But Simoun let the elemental lightning in her nervous system take over and she matched her quarry at every turn. A woman shrieked as her basket of oranges toppled in the first Sylph's wake. Simoun's long legs sliced the air she vaulted over the spill. The thief vanished around a blind corner and Simoun's sandals sprayed yellow dust as she slid to a stop and shot down the narrow path between stalls. Two porters lugged a massive basket suspended on two poles. The thief's legs split out sideways as she vaulted over it. Before the men could recover. Simoun slid underneath their burden and resumed the chase. 

Simoun could not close the distance but her prey could not shake her. They might have run themselves to exhaustion in the setting sun of Wati's streets of packed dirt and clay, but for the blind alley that the thief shot down. Simoun, of course, did not bat an eyelash when the thief began to scale the three-storey brick wall at the alley's end. Her bare toes found easy purchase in the crumbling wall and Simoun's sandaled feet had a more difficult time by contrast. But Simoun's memory was nearly eideitic where patterns were concerned and she instantly memorized the path of handholds and footholds her quarry had taken, losing little time in her pursuit.

It was nothing for two beings descended from air itself to take the chase across the rooftops. By the sixth leap Simoun no longer even knew what district they were in, nor did she care. Her muscles ached but she was nowhere near tired. Indeed, hunting this strange cousin of hers imbued her with an uncanny vitality and she knew it did the same for her foe. Their bodies might not give out, but someone's will eventually had to. Simoun already knew it would not be her.

Approximately once every twenty-four hours, a Sylph can discharge the elemental air that accrues in her tissues, making her only barely heavier than air: a power that can turn a lethal fall into a leisurely descent. The thief perhaps did not guess that the woman pursuing her shared this power. Simoun, however, counted on it. The girl leaped from the highest building she could find: a dilapidated four-storey tenement where she had planned to leave her pursuer staring after her in frustrated disbelief. Instead she found Simoun floating to the ground before her and blocking her way out of the dead end alley.

With a snarl of desperation the thief unfurled fifteen feet of braided leather and lashed it at her erstwhile foe. The whip snaked up round and round Simoun's shin and before she could recover, found herself falling on her shapely behind as the other Sylph yanked the whip tight. Undeterred, she saulted back onto her feet heaved her end of the whip with both arms. Sent off-balance before she had a chance to drop the weapon, the smaller woman careened right into the arms of Simoun who promptly spun her against the brick wall of the alley. She had the girl by the collar now and found herself staring into those crystal blue eyes once again.

The electricity returned between them along with that desire to entwine, become a whirlwind, become one. Even parched with thirst and slicked with sweat as they were, being close to another Sylph was like the cool of a cloudy sky after the rain. Simoun's heart hammered and not just from all the running. Impulse control abandoned her. Not that she'd ever had much use for it anyway. She knew what she wanted. She got what she wanted. 

She cupped the girl's face in her hands and she kissed her.

Simoun knew the girl would reciprocate. It took a second, but she did. Like a melting icicle in the sun, the girl's tongue slid into Simoun's mouth and they writhed together at the tiny shocks arcing between them in their saliva. The girl tasted of mint, and hoarfrost, and faraway pine forests on the slopes of mountains that have never touched the desert. Fevered, Simoun wondered how she must taste to the girl, too, and what other parts of her catch must taste like.

The girl recovered her sense of shame, remembered she was caught, and squirmed out of the kiss but not out of Simoun's arms, and the older Sylph began to passionately kiss her neck and collarbone, careless of whether she left dark purple love-bites on the pale, blue-swirled skin. Simoun cast the girl's shawl aside and found her well-geared for the thief's trade with a leather girdle to protect the vitals over a dark linen blouse. But the armor had the effect of pushing the girl's breasts up, making them fair game for Simoun's eager hands.

The girl was gasping now, her fingers twined in Simoun's crazed hair; not trying to get away. Still her voice came out in a mewling whimper. “Stop!”

“You don't sound very sincere.”

Still gasping under Simoun's kisses, she issued the feeble plea again. “I mean it. Stop!”

“You still have my kukri. Stop me.”

The girl had the gilded weapon tucked into her belt. She drew it, but not with much conviction and Simoun's thumb slipped easily under the vambrace on the girl's wrist and locked the pressure point there. The thief winced as her fingers released the blade which Simoun promptly took.

Simoun took one step back, held up both kukri and scabbard, and slid the blade home. Then, she offered her quarry the weapon again, handle first, which the girl took with some hesitation.

“I'll tell you what,” Simoun offered. “I'm going to give you a chance to earn what you stole from me. I'm going to do things to you. Right now. And if you don't like them you can keep the kukri and walk right out of here. It's worth five hundred gold if it's worth a copper. You'll live like a queen for months. But if you do like it, then I get to keep what's mine...”

Now she leaned in close again, making the girl shiver as the breeze of her voice seduced her ear.

“...And I get to keep you.”

“This is easy money, then. It won't work,” the girl said, even as she let Simoun push her back up against the wall.

Simoun's full lips brushed the woman's cheek as she spoke. “Then tell me your name. Who am I giving my money to?”

“Drinma,” the Sylph cooed as Simoun's tongue ran along her clavicle bone. “And who are you? What are you?”

“My name is Simoun and I am just like you. A Sylph: a Genie-kin blessed with the power of the air. You live in this Genie-haunted land yet you don't even know what you are?”

“What I am is a thief who doesn't let her marks molest her in alleys. Nibble on me all you want, you won't get to fuck – ah! – AH! – Fuck!”

Simoun's tongue had dipped into the hollow of Drinma's throat just as her hands had gone up the girl's skirt and begun to knead the sensitive area where the back of her legs met her body. The girl wore nothing underneath her skirt. Drinma placed her hands on Simoun like she meant to push her away but made no effort to do so. What she believed about herself was at war with what her body actually desired.

As Simoun continued to probe, and lick, and squeeze she noticed they were not alone. A bare-chested young man, perhaps about twenty, was staring down at them from a third storey window, his jaw slack and his eyes wide in disbelief.

“Look at that man up there,” Simoun told Drinma. “Watching you get pleased by a girl. You should really give him something to jerk off to.”

“How would I do that?”

“Just relax and hold still.”

“Why?”

Simoun's eyes gleamed with mischief. “Because if you're anything like me, you have a tight little quim that's very resistant to fingers but which likes them anyway.”

Her hand finally went right between Drinma's spreadeagle legs. Apparently it was a general trait that Sylphs had very little body hair, for the girl's mons was nearly hairless and the meager fringe of hair that there was felt even softer and finer than Simoun's own. Hot, tight pussies must then be a universal constant as well, for burrowing her finger up the girl's snatch was no easy task. But it was certainly a very wet one.

Drinma mewed, squealed, and writhed against the alley wall as her new friend fingered her, trying desperately not to cry out. She wanted this: had fully consented. But Simoun was not done getting her revenge yet, and was particularly sore that the girl had tried to say that she would not fuck her. She wanted to remind her of that. 

She stopped just shy of Drinma losing control and wailing, lifted the girl's right thigh with her left arm and braced her thigh between the girl's legs. With Drinma's pudenda hot and wet upon the bare flesh of her own thigh, Simoun locked her quarry with a steely gaze and uttered an even more steely command.

“Fuck me.”

In the weeks since beginning her sexual relationship with Channa-Ti and Seelah, Simoun had begun developing a theory that tribadism was a perfectly natural activity among women. Drinma amply reinforced this, grinding her quim upon Simoun's thigh with a natural grace matched only by the growing urgency of her need for release. The best part was that Simoun barely had to do anything. The little slut was fully driving the action! With little to do but massage Drinma's tits and hold her leg steady, Simoun spared a glance for their friend up on the third floor. The edge of the window hid him below the waist, but his right hand was down there, his arm furiously pumping, his face a mask of naive, idiotic lust. 

Good for him!

Simoun grinned and nodded approvingly up at the masturbator but he either did not notice or did not care. That was fine. She knew he appreciated it just the same. She couldn't worry about it anyway because Drinma was about to cum all over her leg! Simoun experienced the malicious temptation of stopping her, leaving the would-be pickpocket thoroughly frustrated. But she had already won and saw no need to be vindictive. This time.

Damn, but Seelah's holier-than-thou influence must be getting to her!

The detritus and refuse of the dead end alley swirled off the ground, caught in an elemental breeze summoned by Drinma's agitation. Simoun had to clamp a hand over the girl's mouth to keep her from shrieking like a full-blown windstorm as she came. But she thrashed like the wind funneled down a canyon and plenty of noise escaped through Simoun's fingers. 

A Sylph should know that you cannot catch the wind.

Spent from her climax, Drinma slumped into Simoun's arms. The last swirls of breeze brought the scent of girl honey to Simoun's nose and she could feel the hot smear of pussy juice all down her leg. Drinma hung in her arms as dead weight, spent and humiliated. The man in the window was gone. Either he had finished up or withdrawn to where he could. Not a bad day, in Simoun's estimation.

“You just fucked a stranger in an alley,” Simoun said proudly. She put one arm around Drinma to hold her up and with the other, plucked the purloined kukri from the thief's belt. “And I would say I've earned this back. Yes, definitely not a bad day.”

“What's going on down there?”

Full dusk had fallen, reducing the burley city guardsman to an outline, but his frown was a palpable, animate force as he stared down the two pale, white-haired woman shuffling out of the alley. But Simoun had been dealing with surly guardsmen for quite a long time.

“Nothing, officer,” she responded cheerfully. “My sister here has simply had a bit too much to drink.”

Perhaps he noticed the array of hickeys on Drinma's neck, and the women's disheveled clothing and hair did them no favors. For all Simoun knew, he smelled the pussy juice too. There had certainly been enough of it.

“If she's your sister then I'm your father!”

Simoun defied his intimidation attempt, veering just to the edge of his personal space. “Really? Would you please be? Girls like us need a daddy!”

All the bluster went right out of him and he knew not what to say. Simoun glimpsed his thumb rubbing the wedding ring on his left hand like a protective talisman.  
“You're loitering!” he groused, getting his menace back. “Get out of here. Don't let me catch you two lurking around!”

Simoun and Drinma joined the flow of the last pedestrians heading to their homes for the night. “So now what?” Drinma hesitantly asked once they had put some distance between themselves and the guard.

“Now I have to walk all the back to where we started, hopefully without running into that guard again. That's the bad thing about being a Sylph: we stand out. Which is bad when you're also a Rogue.”

Drinma stopped and Simoun looked back at her. “I mean what now... Between us? I've never seen another like myself before. I... I have questions.”

Simoun weighed the girl. So strong, swift, and cunning, but also dangerously under-prepared. Everything from her bare toes to her piecemeal armor bespoke a hand to mouth existence. No place, no purpose, no plan. 

Simoun could have been looking at a younger version of herself. She thought of Channa-Ti and Seelah and the impromptu family they had formed. Who was to say that family could not grow, even if just for one night?

“I might have answers,” Simoun said coyly. She closed the distance between them and adjusted Drinma's collar to better reveal her cleavage. “But it will cost you.”  
Drinma haughtily folded her arms over her breasts, ceasing Simoun's ministrations. “So what? Do I fuck you in another alley?”

Keeping their gazes locked, Simoun uncrossed Drinma's arms and took her by the hand. Her free fingers reverently followed the path of the blue lines curving up her forearm. “If that is your wish, yes. But I was hoping we could do it in my room, in my bed...”

She summoned a tiny elemental breeze to tickle Drinma's ear at the exact moment she whispered into it. “...With my friends.”

Drinma shivered in the desert heat. She had to wait for the goosebumps to subside. Then the two Sylphs were running hand in hand, back through the streets, back to the start of their passionate chase. A nighttime breeze grown into a gale, foretelling passionate storms yet to come.

To Be Continued


End file.
